


Under All That Bluster

by CaptainCorale



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Coitus Interruptus, Committed Relationship, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Lap Sitting, M/M, PWP, Pointless fluff, Rimming, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-01 21:30:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4035259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCorale/pseuds/CaptainCorale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of oneshot type stories and drabbles centering around Iron Bull/Dorian. Mostly zero plot smut or fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poetry.

**Author's Note:**

> This silly thing just popped out at me one night before going to bed. Seemed to be well liked on tumblr so I thought I'd share it here too. Apologies for the length, but more to come soon!
> 
> If you enjoyed my work, please consider [ buying me a coffee ](http://https://ko-fi.com/cptncorale/) so I can sit and write in coffee shops and be super powered with caffeine!

Poetry 

Bull flipped him onto his front, and parted his legs roughly. Dorian, breathing hard and his cock  _leaking_ , moaned quietly. 

“Do get a move on,” Dorian said. His feigned nonchalance fooling no-one.

Bull would give him what he needed, he always did. He arched his back a little to best ‘present himself’ as it were. Dorian was nothing if not a showman, after all. Bull’s hands ghosted gently down his back and sides, eventually down to pet his arse with growing fervor. He gave one cheek a little slap, and Dorian’s face reddened, his mouth parting as a gasp escaped him. It was always embarrassing to him just how much he enjoyed this particular kind of play. 

Bull groaned lowly under his breath. 

“Dorian,” Bull said. There was a pause as he grunted, exhaling slowly as he continued to fondle him. “You know you’re pretty hot, right?”

Dorian huffed. “Only  _pretty_  hot, not extremely, not  _impossibly_? Hm. I must be losing my touch.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the sun, the moon, whatever else is up there.” He could practically hear the smirk on Bull’s face. Bull continued to stroke him gently, parting his cheeks to thumb a little at his twitching hole. “But Dorian, in all seriousness…your  _ass_ …” 

And he sounded so intense, so  _reverent_  about it, as though his arse was the original Tome of bloody Koslun that Dorian laughed brightly, surprised. 

“I thought you were about to say something poetic, Bull.”

“You ass _is_  poetry. Now, push it up a bit so I can get my face in there.”

“Ah, romance,” Dorian sing-songed, but he didn’t hesitate to do as Bull asked. 


	2. Hand-holding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolute syrupy nonsense! I'll write something more substantial with these two someday, honest! I thought the kissing scene with Dorian/Inquisitor was super cute, because they're always holding hands and I decided to run with it for this.

Hands

It was somewhere between the searingly hot, long nights of leg shaking fucking and when they began to wake up most days draped over each other with or without it that The Iron Bull took notice of the fact that Dorian especially loved to be kissed, more than anything else they did. That kissing was Dorian’s favourite thing to do wasn’t entirely a surprise to The Bull, but that he would give into it so easily instead of pretending he was uninterested, that he didn’t  _need_  it  _was_  a surprise to The Bull.

Even without the anticipation or promise of sex (although it often led to it, The Bull thought with a sly smirk) Dorian would slip into his embrace and happily enjoy Bull’s mouth lazily and at length. Away from prying eyes, Dorian would often tilt his head up sweetly to The Iron Bull and tap at his pouting lips in an unspoken demand, or he would find himself straddled and kissed by him until he was breathless. Most mornings, he woke up to feel Dorian’s soft mouth against his, pressing warm, breathy whispers of kisses to his face until he came round and reached for him. The Bull was always happy to indulge him, as kissing Dorian had quickly become one of The Bull's favourite things to do too.

But The Bull’s favourite thing _about_ kissing Dorian was that no matter how, where or when they kissed, Dorian would always drop his hands to clasp at The Bull’s gently, and thread their fingers together. It was disarming to The Bull at just how charming he found it. Dorian was fiery, passionate and he worked hard at pretending he was generally unaffected by everything. That he would be such an honest, sincere sweet-thing behind closed doors, holding hands and kissing for hours in bed with The Bull was wholly endearing to him.

One quiet afternoon after Dorian had returned from a fortnight long trip with The Inquisitor, they were in just such a position. In his room, their mouths meeting before Dorian’s hand nudged at his and clasped it. The Bull’s other hand was happily fondling away at Dorian’s ass, because - hell, how could he not? The Bull grinned into the kiss at the familiar touch. He’d missed this over the last fortnight. Whatever this was between them, it was growing and keen with an aching fondness The Bull didn’t know how to explain. Dorian pulled back, a roguish smirk on his face, but a questioning look dwelled in his eyes.

“And just what is so amusing,” he asked, a brow raised.

Bull shook his head, but brought their linked hands up so that he could place a kiss on Dorian’s.

“Nothing’s funny. You’re just being cute is all.”

Dorian huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, his usual song-and-dance when he was flustered, but flattered by The Bull.

“Cute, Bull? Really, how  _soft_  of you. What will people say,” he scoffed, but there was a pretty blush dusting his cheeks. Gentle blushes, he’d said to Varric jokingly once, that’s love.

“Shut up, c'mere.” He drew him in close again, and tried to suppress the little smile tugging at his lips, even when he felt one in answer on Dorian’s. He laced their fingers again.

That’s love.


	3. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The Iron Bull is Dorian's first kiss.

Dorian felt the wood of the door hard against his back as The Bull nudged him into it slowly. Never once taking his eyes from Dorian’s, Maker – why did he have to look at him so _intently_ , The Bull took Dorian’s wrists together in one hand and pressed them up and above Dorian’s head, into the door. They were held loosely, Dorian knew he could slip from the grasp easily if he wanted. He did not. A low, pleased hum emanated from The Bull as he observed the way Dorian’s chest began to heave as his heart-rate quickened.

“You’re just going to stare at me all night,” Dorian said with as much bravado as he could muster, ignoring the fact that he was not quite able to meet The Bull’s hot gaze full on.

The Bull laughed slightly. “No, no. But I do like watching you winding yourself tight.”

“I’m doing no such thing,” Dorian sputtered, even though he knew he was practically panting and he was already half-hard in his leggings.

The Bull smirked and pressed one thick thigh between Dorian’s legs to rub it firmly on his cock, Dorian groaned and ground down against it, the pressure too delicious to resist. With another laugh, The Bull’s free hand wrapped around his hip and arse, rolling and controlling Dorian’s increasingly desperate movements to a more steady pace.

“Oh, no? I’ve barely even touched you yet, big guy,” The Bull whispered hotly into his ear, his tongue following to trail around the shell of it. "And look at how hot you are for it."

“Oh,” Dorian gasped. " _Oh_." The Bull was kissing and nipping lightly along his jaw, his scarred lips making their way up to his-

Dorian jerked away suddenly, his hands tearing from The Bull’s grip to push against his massive chest.

_He just-_

“Uh,” The Bull started, obviously taken a little aback. “Are you okay?” He held his hands up, palms facing towards him. He looked guilty and worse, _worried_.

“I,” Dorian said after a moment. How in the world was he supposed to explain his one? _Oh, well bloody done, Dorian_ , he admonished himself. _Now, you look like a prize_ fool. “Yes, of course I’m _okay_. I apologize for that.”

“No need,” The Bull said calmly, taking a step back. “I, uh. Know I was a little drunk the last time, sorry about that, by the way. But if you’re not comfortable with this, Dorian…”

“ _A little drunk_? That’s an understatement,” he said, instantly regretting how harsh it sounded and he fought to quickly recover from it. “I barely even got that fantastic cock of yours out of your trousers before you passed out. My ego is wounded _still_ , Bull.”

The Bull laughed. “That sounds about right,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m usually much more entertaining, I promise.” He rubbed the back of his neck and scratched at his horns. “Did I do something wrong there, Dorian? It’s okay if you don’t want to continue, you know.”

Dorian didn’t say anything, he was still turning the question around in his head. How was he supposed to tell The Iron Bull he’d never kissed anyone before? Maker’s Breath, he would sound pre-pubescent. It was humiliating. He cleared his throat, and met The Bull’s eye with his own, finally.

“I, ah. _Well_ , it’s barely of enough consequence to me, nevermind you, I’m sure. It’s only a small matter. But, I ah. Well, it’s only that I’ve...never kissed anyone before.”

The Bull’s eye widened. “You-”

“Oh, I’ve fucked nearly half the confused and randy male population of Minrathous, certainly. I’m no virginal wall-flower, Bull. Have no fear about that. But…with my type of  _deviancy_ being mocked and disdained as it is in Tevinter, there isn’t much of an inclination for romance, or soft things such as kissing between men. You learn to stop asking eventually.”

“Huh. Well,” said The Bull after a long moment. “Shit.”

“Quite.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever fucked without a bit of kissing,” he said, scratching his chin, thinking.

“Hurrah for you, then,” he drawled and The Bull chuckled in reply.

“So,” The Bull said, smirking. “You want to?”

“Kiss you?”

“Mm-hm.”

“I, well, if you…”

The Bull drew in close again slowly, pressing his hard, muscular body against Dorian’s, his huge hands running up his arms to rub circles into his biceps. A finger and thumb reached up and traced the outline of his jaw, tilting his face up to look at The Bull and Dorian swallowed, hard.

“Well, I suppose so,” Dorian said, trying for casual, but reaching weak-kneed, storybook heroine. Good thing he was still leaning against the door, he thought. _Maker, but it's hot in here_.

The Bull made a pleased noise and while still tickling his jaw with his fingers, he kissed Dorian’s cheek once, and again, then the corner of his mouth before finally pressing his lips to Dorian’s. Dorian felt a delightful warmth trickle through him almost immediately.

The Bull took control gently, caressing Dorian’s upper lip with his own, and drawing on Dorian’s plush bottom lip, teasing it with just a quick, soft flick of his tongue. Dorian gasped and they pressed into each other a little more firmly, the air around them heating up as Dorian began to relax into it. The Bull guided him with one hand on his cheek, the other on his waist as Dorian’s hands travelled up the glorious expanse of The Bull’s naked chest.

This was no cringe-worthy ‘battle for dominance’ from those awful novels Cassandra adored. This was a slow and thorough _seduction_. Each little kiss lingered and melted into the next; their lips parting and opening to each other sweetly and lazily, their tongues lightly ghosting over each other's but venturing no deeper. Dorian was almost shocked at The Bull’s tenderness, he hadn’t expected to have needed this quite so much. He felt light-headed and it was wonderful; soft and so _intimate_. Dorian heard a keening noise escape him as their hands roamed over each other, the passion growing slowly. He wound his arms over The Bull’s shoulders, gasping, his little moans filling the air between them.

Dorian felt utterly taken by The Bull and when they parted it took him a moment to open his eyes again. The Bull was smirking smugly, but Dorian was pleased to notice he was similarly short of breath and there was colour in his cheeks.

“So?”

“Well, that was…fun,” Dorian said, a little giddy.

“We’re only getting started,” The Bull replied warmly. “We can do it Orlesian style next.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it, and as always your feedback is my life force, hah. turned out to be a lot longer than I intended, oop. I always figured that nothing much happened on bull and dorian’s first night together - not because I have a problem with drunk fucking, but drunk dudes are lucky to get it up once, never mind three times when they’re pissed, aha. sorry for my british spelling, hope it's not too jarring. Come say hi on tumblr!


	4. Lap-sitting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Adoribull Prompt Sunday on Tumblr. A request from Justjasper. Hope you enjoy it.

The snow had been knee deep on their return to Skyhold; it was winter, everything was white and shining and the sky was a glittering blanket of stars above them. The light of it bounced off the snow, illuminating the path ahead of them without the aid of torches. It would be beautiful if Dorian gave a fig about anything other than getting somewhere dry and warm. This cold was  _damnable_ . It had been a four week journey and back to Griffon Wing Keep and Dorian was itching to get back home. Now there’s something peculiar, Dorian thought. Skyhold as home, when did that happen?

As they stumbled across the bridge and into the courtyard, Dorian knew he should probably head back to his room straight away. It was terribly late; he was exhausted and worse still,  _damp_  from the journey back. He waved a lacklustre goodbye to Vivienne whose usual no-nonsense saunter was as tired looking as he felt. He sighed and gave the stairs leading up to his quarters a baleful glance. How cruel, he thought. He certainly couldn't muster the energy to climb all of those stairs just to fall into a cold and empty bed. His gaze travelled to the direction of the tavern; rowdy noise and music pouring from it into the courtyard and it beckoned to Dorian tauntingly. He grimaced however, as it was an equally hideous thought to be caught around countless people when he knew he looked more like dragon’s wet wing than his usual  _debonair_ self. Not to mention even  _one_  drink would definitely knock him off his feet tonight, drained as he was. Yet, if he were honest with himself it wasn't the promise of liquors and spirits that lured him, but the warmth and humour of Iron Bull. Dorian felt a smirk tug at the corner of his lip as a very familiar, booming laugh resonated throughout the upper courtyard and echoed down to his ears.

Decision made, he headed for the tavern. When he got there it was busy, cosy and he was greeted warmly and enthusiastically by everyone inside. Most people were cheerfully drunk and merry with the spirit of the Solstice feasts and festivals approaching. He clapped a solider on his back happily as the drunk man ‘ _whoo-hoo_ ’ed in his face and made his way through the reveling crowd to where Iron Bull sat, surrounded by his Chargers.

“You’re back,” said Dalish with a wave. “Just in time to get us a round!”

Iron Bull’s head turned sharply to him and he smiled. “Hey there. Good to see you,” he said, his voice deep and cheeks ruddy.  _Drunken buffoon_ , Dorian thought bemusedly. “C’mere.”

Dorian went, sliding his hand over Iron Bull’s bare shoulder when he was close enough. “You look like you’re having fun,” Dorian said, smirking.

“Yep! Krem finally avoided a shield bash knock back. Took him so long, a celebration was needed.”

“Oh, sod off,” Krem called from across the table.

There were no seats left so Iron Bull stood up, rocking a little on his feet. “Have my chair,” he said.  

“No, no,” started Dorian, secretly a little thrilled at the doting attention. “Not on my account. I only popped in quickly to see what all the noise was about. I’m feeling less than my usual dazzling self and in desperate need of some beauty rest.”

“You look fine,” Iron Bull protested.

“Fine is all well and good for  _some_  people, but  _I_  aim for  _sensational_.”

Iron Bull chuckled. “Alright, alright.” He sat back down. Even sitting, Iron Bull’s immense height put little difference between them, Dorian mused.

Iron Bull, jolly with alcohol and flushed with pleasure at having Dorian unexpectedly at his side, grinned at him. It filled Dorian with a terrible, gooey  _affection_  like some smitten adolescent. It wasn’t a bad feeling. Suddenly then, in that moment, Dorian was tired of hiding this part of himself more than anything else. Tired of pretending he and Bull hadn’t been sharing a bed for months, tired of pretending that it was only a bit of mutual cork popping (if that were the case there'd be no more champagne left in all of Thedas), tired of pretending that he wasn't standing there because he only wanted to see The Iron Bull.

Before he could let himself overthink it, or worry or grow fearful for reasons that didn't exist here, he leaned down and planted a solid, slow, closed mouth kiss on Iron Bull’s lips. He slid a hand over his stubbled jaw and stroked his earlobe lightly before parting from the kiss, a little wet noise left in its wake. Iron Bull looked stunned, well as stunned as one  _could_  look with only one eye and more alcohol than blood in their veins. Dorian couldn't stop a sly smirk stretching over his face; it only grew when Iron Bull matched him in an answering grin.

“I’ll see you upstairs,” Dorian said and turned to leave.

“Hey, c'mere,” Iron Bull croaked and snatched his hand. He pulled gently, probably intending to smooch his face off again before he could leave. But Dorian lost his footing; he was so tired he was barely on his feet as it was. He spun and toppled over and onto Iron Bull’s lap in one quick motion. It was surprisingly graceful for a fall and Dorian was almost impressed with himself before he realised just what kind of display they must be putting on for the rest of the tavern.

But nobody was even looking, they were all laughing, singing, drinking or carrying on with their heated discussions as though two men kissing and sitting intimately made zero difference to them or their lives.

“Sorry, Dorian!” Iron Bull laughed. “Didn't mean to pull you down…Hey, you alright?”

Dorian didn’t answer for a moment. He wriggled, and hooked his left leg over his right knee.

“Yes actually,” he said and looped his arms around Iron Bull’s neck. “Quite comfortable. Hope you don’t mind me playing the wilting damsel.”

“You'll get no complaints from me,” Iron Bull replied, patting his flank. Dorian kissed Iron Bull again. He tasted like Ferelden beer.  

 


	5. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another short oneshot for heybulldawg that I did this afternoon for Adoribull Prompt Sunday. The prompt was: Bull accidentally hurts Dorian during a battle (or vice versa). I was stuck on the prompt for a little bit because I kept flipping between making it funny or going for something a little more serious/soppy. Hope you like!

It was just another day fighting for the Inquisition. There was a Pride Demon and his bullshit buddies, giving them a hard time of it at the end of their long-ass journey home. They'd given him a pretty good bashing but it was almost over. He could tell from the way the demon swayed, clenching its huge claws and the way its rattling, grim laughter gargled in the back of its throat as it choked on its own blood; it was a delicious sound. Iron Bull knew he just had to push on a little bit more and victory would be theirs.

The gigantic blade of his Greataxe sifted through the sand, and he felt the trickling liquid coolness of a barrier shivering over his skin; it brought him back a little more to his senses and he breathed deep. He refocused his gaze, sharp and targeted on only the demon and sneered with the knowledge that he was about to flatten this grinning bag of shit. He would _probably_ pass out after, but he still had enough energy left to finish it. The Pride Demon lifted his disgusting, rotten, fleshy foot to smash him like pulp into the ground. _Think again, asshole_ , Iron Bull thought. His rage refuelled him and he swung his Greataxe with all his might, pushed all his remaining energy into it and felt it connect, beautifully, brutally through the creature's kneecaps. It howled, crumbled and and fell, dead as Iron Bull followed through with his swing. He tried to regain his balance, but he'd swung too hard and his axe pulled him backwards with the force of it. He felt it connect, not lightly with something behind him and he froze at a pained shout. 

“Ah, _shit_!”

Iron Bull turned sharply, his gaze bleary due to his injuries wearing him down. He felt ill, like something curdled in his stomach as thought he'd downind a pint of nug milk. Dorian was bent in half, cradling his forearm. His robes were ripped and blood seemed to be gushing through the hand that clutched at it.

“Dorian,” Iron Bull started. He felt cold and numb at the same time. He'd _hurt_ Dorian. The realisation was like a sucker punch to the gut. Friendly fire happened sometimes in battle, sure, but not to Iron Bull in a very long time. Why had Dorian even been so close to him, he should have been far back throwing spells from a distance, he thought angrily. This shouldn't have happened.

“Dorian,” Iron Bull said again. “What -”

“Not to worry, it's just a flesh wound!” Dorian said. “I'm fine, really I'm fine.”

“My ass, you are. You're bleeding.” He knew he had to give him an Elfroot potion before he lost too much blood. He fumbled with the pouch on his belt, his fingers shook and he clumsily grasped at a vial. Exhaustion was kicking in as the wounds from the fight started to overwhelm him.

“Take this, _take_ it.”

“You need it more than me, Bull. Look at yourself.”

“Fuck, Dorian. For once, don't ar...don't argue. Just.”

“ _Bull_!”

He must have passed out then, he supposed. When he opened his eyes again, everything was dark and wonderfully warm. He was in a tent. Must be back at camp, he thought. He groaned, his whole body was still aching. He must have taken quite a beating. He gasped, a grating sound. _Dorian_. Was he okay?

“You're conscious?”

“D-Dorian?”

“But who else?” Dorian asked, amused. “Welcome back. You've been out for a good while. You should have seen us trying to carry you back to camp. We made quite the slapstick comedy.”

“Shit.” As he slowly came back to himself he realised that the warm weight beside him had been Dorian buried against his side. Dorian's bandaged arm stretched across his chest and he grimaced at it.

“You ah, had me worried,” Dorian said quietly.

“ _I_ did? Look at your arm, Kadan. I can't believe I-”

“Hush. I shouldn't have been hovering so close. It's my own fault. I know how big your weapon is, and how hard you use it.”

Dorian leaned up to lock eyes with him and they both smirked lazily at the joke. Dorian stroked his face and kissed the corner of his lips. Iron Bull swallowed and blinked hard. He didn't think he would ever touch a blade again if he had wounded Dorian badly. And wasn't _that_ a thought to process.

“How's the arm?”

“Not bad. It shouldn't scar, so don't fret so much. It's not nearly as bad as it looked.” He kissed him again. “Although you did ruin my robes so I'll certainly be expecting a new set.”

Iron Bull chuckled and sighed, guilt still festered low like gut-rot inside him. He was all too aware of the fact that his careless swing could have easily disembowelled Dorian if it had been even a little more to the left. It was a horrifying thought.

“C'mere. Let me hold you,” he whispered. Dorian went gladly, gently leaning on Iron Bull's huge form. Iron Bull grunted and moved so he could squeeze him tight and stroke his hair. Something hung in the air between them, something that Iron Bull desperately wanted to say to him. He wasn't a fearful man but this was uncharted territory.

“I find that...I can't quite bear the thought of losing you, Bull,” Dorian said after a long moment. “Do be more careful, won't you?”

“Right back at you, Kadan,” Iron Bull said, his voice thick. “Right back at you.”

 


	6. Gestures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a little while since I wrote and I know I'm long overdue updating The Misfortune of Fate and Dawnstone. I have chapters written, but they're not quite ready yet. This was a request for the lovely Tika On on tumblr for Adoribull Sunday. Come say hi on tumblr, especially if you have any requests. Anyway, I enjoyed this. Cutesy, happy crap like this is why I get up in the morning, haha.

It was just another morning in Skyhold; The Iron Bull was out of bed, pottering around and gathering his things together for another short mission with The Chargers on behalf of The Inquisition. He’d decided to stay at Skyhold, liked what they were doing here, he’d said, and it was nice to have a regular income. Krem had laughed at that and told Bull that he must be getting old if he was thinking about citizenry things like money security and settling down. Dorian had grinned along with him, but it had left him wondering. It had been a year since Corypheus’s defeat after all, and neither of them had made any serious moves to leave The Inquisition. There was no denying that there was plenty of work to be done still, but it was work that would certainly go ahead with or without either of them. They were free to move on as they wished, but they were both quite content to stay for now. It was simultaneously frightening and elating to realise that they both were staying so they could be with each other. They didn’t want to part, but somehow both knew that it was inevitable someday.

Dorian sighed and rolled in sheets, seeking out the warmth of Bull’s vacant spot. He could hear him riffling through his supplies, the clink of bottled potions, the odd clang of a sword or knife and the predictable swearing under his breath. Bull grumbled something angrily and slammed a drawer shut.

“Dorian,” he growled, having caught on to Dorian’s wakefulness. “I’m not kidding. If you don’t start putting your shit in the dressers, I’ll throw it out the turrets.”

Dorian, still half-asleep and uninterested in listening to Bull’s tirade, whined piteously in answer. 

“I hate clutter, Dorian. It makes my horns itch, and it pisses me off. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Every day, Bull,” Dorian finally managed to sigh from beneath the sheets.

“It isn’t funny, you brat. I mean it. Your mess is driving me crazy.“ 

"Oh,” Dorian said fruitily. “Andraste’s silky, crotchless  _smalls_. I’m so  _naughty_ , Bull. Maybe you should-”

“That won’t work.” He cleared his throat. “This time.”

Dorian made a disappointed sound that ended as a chuckle. He reached out blindly with one hand. Iron Bull caught it. 

“Many apologies,” said Dorian, cracking an eye open. “I’ll be neater in the future. Cross my wretched heart." 

"No, you won’t.”

“You’re probably right. I won’t, but it’s the thought that counts, yes?" 

"Oh. What thought is that?”

“This one.” Dorian tugged on Bull’s hand, a sly smirk spread over his face until Bull got the message and went, rolling his eyes long-sufferingly. He sat with the better part of his weight on the bed and leaned over Dorian’s pliant body. Dorian let him hover as he shimmied to sit up from under the sheets to wrap his arms around Bull’s neck. He kissed him, gently but insistently. Bull’s lips were unyielding at first. Obviously he was cross with Dorian’s flippant attitude, but if there was once thing Dorian was good at, it was flirting his way back into someone’s good graces. He continued to pepper sweet, little kisses to his scarred lips, and Bull slowly opened up to him; kissing him back with a low hum of pleasure as Dorian pressed his warm naked body against him. With a laugh, Dorian knew he had succeeded when Bull’s thick arms came round to encircle Dorian’s waist as they kissed lazily, teasingly for a few minutes.

“You have me wrapped around your little finger, don’t you?” Bull said, pulling back with a smirk.

“I’d sooner be wrapped around you,  _Amatus_ ,” Dorian replied and climbed into Bull’s lap. Bull laughed and pulled him closer, grabbing his ass with one hand, and his nape with the other. Dorian wriggled and gasped a little theatrically into Bull’s mouth.

“Do you have time to fuck me before you go?” Dorian asked.

“No,” The Bull replied and grinned when Dorian pouted, but he held him tightly anyway and rocked Dorian’s erection against his own. The scratchy fabric of his trousers was not entirely unpleasant. “I could finger you a little though. You always come quick when I do that.”

“Oh, go on, then, you romantic.”

Bull laughed again and threw him down onto the bed.

That was pretty much when Dorian realised that he wanted to spend every morning this way. Perhaps it was one day inevitable that they would have to part ways to follow their own paths, but until then Dorian intended to make it clear to The Bull just how much he meant to him, how much what they  _shared_  meant to him. He wanted to show The Bull that even if he wasn’t by his side someday, his heart would still be his. It was all sickeningly maudlin and syrupy, of course. But Dorian had never felt quite this intensely about anyone before, which made it all only the more difficult.

It occurred to Dorian that although he could simply tell Bull how he felt, it didn’t seem enough, even if he were adept at talking about his  _feelings_. He wanted to  _show_  Bull how he felt through some kind of grand gesture. He wouldn’t be Tevinter if he wasn’t extravagant in his expressions of love, after all. In Tevinter, he knew what would have been expected of him and his betrothed, the virulent Lady Everen, if Dorian had gone through with the marriage. The sigil of House Pavus was a great serpent; it was adorned on most of his clothing, his jewellery, even some of his staffs were crafted to look like entwining snakes. Personally he’d always been very fond of the symbol, and as his father was the superior magister, Lady Everen would have been required to marry into his house and therefore adopt the serpent as her own sigil. Of course she despised it, which amused Dorian to no end as she was possibly one of the most forked tongued people he’d met in his life. They would have been great friends under radically different circumstances.

But The Bull had no such sigil for Dorian to adopt. There was always the Qun crest, but wouldn’t that be hilariously inappropriate, on both their counts. Not to mention that he had never seen Bull wear it even before he had officially become Tal-Vasoth. No, that wouldn’t work at all, he told himself as he watched Bull strap on his pauldrons and armour after they’d finished their morning romp. He stretched, feeling appallingly relaxed in only the way the post-coital could, and warm with keen affection for Bull who turned and gave him a dirty grin.

“You look pleased with yourself,” Bull said.

“As I should, after that.” He winked and his gaze lingered over Bull’s impressive physique. “Do a little flexing, won’t you,  _Amatus_?”

Bull laughed, but indulged him with an over-exaggerated grunt as he flexed both his huge biceps. Dorian giggled, smitten, his face half-buried in the pillows.

“Well, there’s something I hadn’t noticed before,” Dorian said, surprised. He sat up on the bed as Bull looked over his shoulder. 

“What?”

"This,” Dorian reached upwards and ran his hand over the pauldron on Bull’s left shoulder. It was a sturdy, thick blue metal but painted on the side of it was a bright yellow sunflower. He ran the tip of his finger over it lightly, a little smile playing over his face. 

“It’s a sunflower, Bull. How  _cute_. What will people say?”

“Hah. I have it painted on all my armour. I’m surprised you’ve only noticed it now with the number of times I’ve caught you eyeballing me.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Shit no.” He flexed again and Dorian laughed, squeezing his rock hard, bulging bicep.

“But why a sunflower?” he asked, serious again.

Bull paused and swallowed. Dorian cocked an eyebrow at him; he wasn’t used to seeing Bull hesitate. “It’s…well.” Bull frowned. “Never really talked about this with anyone before,” he finally said and sat down beside Dorian on the bed. Dorian leaned into him. 

“When I was a kid, still growing my horns out I was raised on a farm with other kids and my Tama. There were these acres of fields full of sunflowers most of the year all around the farms. Par Vollen is pretty hot so they last well there. We played in those fields every day on our down time and bought back bouquets for the Tamassarans and they always pretended it was a huge surprise. I guess it was a little tradition for us.” He sighed. “When shit got bad in Seheron, so bad I thought I might…well. You know all that already. I started painting the sunflower on my armour to remind myself of happier times, and of what I was fighting to protect.”

“So, it’s an important symbol to you?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Dorian hummed to himself. “You sap,” he said and Bull nudged him with a smirk. “It’s pretty.” He traced the outline of it with a fingertip, the solution to his problem suddenly very simple.

–

When Dorian returned from his next trip to Orlais, Bull was waiting for him. He grinned and helped Dorian off his horse and ignored Sera when she shouted on him to help her too.

“You were gone a whole week longer than you said you’d be,” Bull grumbled as Dorian took the reign of his horse in hand.

“Miss me, did you?” Dorian said. “Of course, you did. It’s only natural.” They walked towards the stables.

“Yeah, I can’t put into words how much I missed piles of crap lying all over my floor, and snoring, and blanket hogging,” he said, but he scratched the back of his neck and smiled and Dorian knew he was only being a little sarcastic. 

The horse was all too happy to get to the pile of hay and Dorian sighed. It’d been a long trip, his backside was killing him. He stretched and heard something click.

“New robes?” Bull asked. “Haven’t seen those before.”

“Like them?” Dorian spun in a circle. They were a luscious Royale Sea Silk, the silver brought out his eyes fabulously, if he did say so himself. But that was far from the most important quality of his outfit,  _this_  time.

“Wait.” Bull stopped him, and turned him to look at the back of them. “Is that..?”

“I was wondering how long it’d take you to notice.” Embroidered on the back where he usually would have a serpent was a yellow and gold sunflower design, subtle and elegant. Dorian turned his gaze up to Bull’s face.

“But, why?” Bull asked, even though from the tone in his voice it sounded like he knew exactly what the intent was behind the design.

“In Tevinter, you wear someone’s sigil to show your,” he coughed, “devotion to them. It felt appropriate considering how we, how I…feel. If you don’t like it though, I’d understand. It is personal, after all.”

“I like it,” Bull said with certainty. Maker’s breath, his eye even looked a little moist, Dorian realised. “Very much, Kadan.”

“Sap,” Dorian muttered.

“Hah, says  _you_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are my life force. You can also find me on tumblr. Come [ say hi on there too! ](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com) It would make my day and I take prompts and sometimes write cutesy headcanons, drabbles there that I wouldn't post here. I also whine and get mad about fandom a lot, be warned, hah. :-)


	7. Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [ this beautiful, wonderful fanart by Lonicera Caprifolium. ](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com/post/129509012352/lonicera-caprifolium-but-really-is-there-a)

Bull breathed slowly and deeply, his touch gentle and reverent on Dorian’s sated body. Dorian sighed happily; Bull was such a caretaker, a fusspot. He always checked Dorian after they had sex, looking for rope-burns that may sting, bruises that may ache. Even as he lay on top of him, he watched that he balanced the weight of himself, so that Dorian wouldn’t be hurt. His hands smoothed back Dorian’s sweaty hair and tilted his chin so that more of his throat was exposed and breathed in deeply through his nose.

“What are you doing?” Dorian asked, smirking.

Bull hummed. “Your scent is strong here.”

“My  _what_?”

“Just along your glands here, I can smell you; smell your bliss, smell your comfort, smell your sex. It’s delicious, Dorian.” His voice was low and soft, and terribly alluring. He had no right to be so thoroughly seductive, Dorian thought with a gasp as Bull’s tongue followed his nose. With the thick pad of it, he slowly licked along and under Dorian’s throat and chin, tasting him.

“Tastes delicious, too. Fuck, Dorian.”

“Bull,” he sighed in reply. He tilted his head back further with a small moan.

Bull chuckled, continuing and wet kisses were peppered on the sensitive flesh after. Dorian’s arms moved to reach up to encircle around Bull’s neck and horn. Bull sucked gently under his jaw, leaving a small mark and pulled back to admire it, a smug look on his face. Dorian felt like he was floating.

“Don’t suppose you’re up for another round?” Dorian asked.

Bull grinned.


	8. Style

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A prompt on tumblr for Adoribull Sunday that I posted a couple of weeks ago, only just remembered I hadn't posted it here yet!

**Style**

“What,” The Iron Bull said, lowering his weapon. “Is that?”

Ignoring The Chief’s drifting eye, Krem saw his opportunity and leapt forwards. The sound of the wooden practice sword  _whapping_ against Iron Bull’s abdomen was both resonant and satisfying. He grinned, triumphant.

“Ouch,” Iron Bull grumbled, swatting the sword out of Krem’s hand in one easy slap. “That  _hurt._ ”

Krem laughed. “Serves you right, Chief. You only got the one eye, try and keep it on the task at hand. What were you looking at anyway?”

“ _That_ ,” Iron Bull said, as though it were obvious. He gestured towards Dorian walking past them across the courtyard. Krem rolled his eyes. 

“You’re drooling, Chief. Sop it up. It’s normal garb in Tevinter. How have you never seen that style before?”

“Oh, I have, but it’s never been quite so…”

“Dorian-ish?”

“ _Yeah_.“ 

Krem groaned. Summer wear in Tevinter was a lavish and extravagant affair, especially to the Alti who took it very seriously. You couldn’t be caught dead wearing sleeves after the first day of summer, and trousers would be considered equally hilarious. Everyone’s wardrobes would be full of silks, voile and airy cottons cut into light  _togatams_  and robes; they were sensual and luxurious fashions that were seductively revealing, yet showed nothing overt. 

Dorian was wearing a  _taglio_   _picta_ ; the most average of male summer styles that consisted of a sleeveless knee-length robe, tight around the torso with two long, wide open splits along the side of the legs up to the hips.  _Very_  Tevinter. It was supposed to show off the strength of a man’s bare thighs and calves but with the way Dorian sashayed around, the only thing anyone would be noticing was the fact that you could definitely bounce a copper (or twenty) off that man’s arse. Iron Bull's head tilted, his gaze following the drift of the breeze as it flirted with gusting the back of the robe _just a bit_ higher.

“He looks good in red, don’t you think?” The Chief asked, he sounded sickeningly dreamy. Krem would need to find a new mentor at this rate. 

“I really couldn’t care less, Chief!”

“Yeah…” The Chief said, obviously not listening. Krem groaned again. 

Dorian looked over his shoulder at them and smirked, the sun glinted off the gold of his jewellery and sandals as he waved with a flicker of his fingers.  

“Let’s take a break, Krem. You’ve earned it,” The Chief said and without so much as a second glance, stalked off after Dorian. 


	9. Cramp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another request for Adoribull Prompt Sunday from a few weeks ago. A little raunchier than my normal writing. I'm taking a little step back from random prompts recently as I'm working pretty hard on Dawnstone and Misfortune of Fate. Please do check them out, they're more of a slow burn, but they're my babies.

It’s a new position for Dorian, the quick and secretive trysts in his past hadn’t allowed for leisurely or experimental sex after all. But with The Iron Bull, it was  _quite_  different. They spent long nights, afternoons and mornings discovering each other and trying new things, finding out what worked for them both. The sex was the most deeply satisfying of Dorian’s life. This time was no different. Bull had called it ‘The Lotus’ and waggled his eyebrows at him. It involved Bull sitting upright with his legs crossed in front of him, Dorian settled in his lap, facing each other with Bull’s fantastic, thick cock inside him and finally his legs crossed at Bull’s back. It was sublime, and entirely too intimate, Dorian had as an afterthought. They were pressed together in every way, unable to hide or stopper anything.

Bull controlled their every move, lifting and grinding Dorian up and down with ease, grinning toothily each time Dorian moaned loudly and tossed his head. Dorian held Bull’s face in his hands; he couldn’t stop kissing him, gasping into his mouth with each delicious drag of Bull’s cock against his sweet spot, lighting him up inside.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Dorian panted, rocking harder against him.

“Not planning on it,” Bull said, equally laboured. “Fuck, Dorian. Look at you, you’re gorgeous. Knew this one would be perfect for us.”

Dorian had never felt so absolutely taken and worshiped in his life. Bull was  _intoxicating_  and Dorian couldn’t get enough of the way he made him feel.

“You’re amazing, Bull. I’m close, I’m - Bull,  _please_.“ 

Bull growled and fucked into him in slow, excellent circles and took his cock in his hand.

“ _Yes_ ,” he laughed. “Don’t stop, Bull.”

Dorian’s eyes slid shut, he arched his back with a high keen and –

_Pain._

Horrible, horrible  _pain_. It snapped him entirely out of whatever spiral he’d been going down.

"Oh, fuck,” he cried out, unable to do anything else. 

“ _Yeah_ , come on, Dorian.”

“No, Bull, no.  _Stop_. Oh, fuck.  _Katoh_ , fuck." 

Bull’s head snapped up from biting at Dorian’s throat immediately, concern and worry written all over his face.

“It’s my back, Bull. Something’s wrong,” he whimpered and gripped Bull’s arms, his nails dug in as he breathed through the pain.

"Okay, okay. I have you,” Bull said gently. He started on untangling their bodies. “Just breathe.”

“Oh, Maker.  _Vishante kaffas_ , Bull. I’m sorry.” It felt like his entire left side had seized up into one giant, agonising knot. He winced with every minute move and almost felt tears well up in his eyes.

Bull was quick and calm in easing them apart. He settled Dorian, who was panting in pain, on his side on the bed. “Don’t apologise, Dorian. Tell me where it’s hurting?”

“All along my neck, my left shoulder blade and down,” he ground out.

“Can I touch you? Maybe I can help.” Dorian nodded reluctantly and Bull felt around a little, squeezing muscles and listening carefully to Dorian’s hisses. “It’ll be from that climb this morning. You’ve pulled something when you slipped.”

“Lesson learned, then. You’re sure?”

"Pretty sure, yeah, big guy. Everything else feels normal." 

Dorian tried to roll over to face him and groaned in pain again. "I can’t move, Bull. Sorry about…” He gestured to their naked bodies.

Bull chuckled warmly. “I’m good. Just relax, I’ll be back in a second.” He heard the swish of water and Bull returned with a damp cloth. He started wiping Dorian down carefully.

“You don’t have to-“

“Yeah, I do.”

Dorian shifted a little, and the pain flared again. He huffed at himself; he  _couldn’t_  stay in Bull’s bed. He’d never stayed the night before. But he couldn’t move either. He tried to sit up again and gasped.

“What are you doing?” Bull asked.

“I should leave.”

“Oh, yeah? How you planning on doing that? Trebuchet?”

“You’re terribly unamusing.”

Bull laughed. With huge, gentle hands, he kneaded a little at the sore areas of muscle. He had something cool on his hands that warmed as he applied it. Dorian sighed, it felt wonderful. Bull was wonderful.

“A little something I use on my leg sometimes,” he explained. There was a pause, and when Bull spoke again Dorian could hear the forced casualness of his tone. “You should…stay the night. Here.”

Was he nervous? Dorian swallowed and nodded.

“Very well. I am defeated, after all. Mmh, that feels…nice.”

The exhaustion from the day and the sex, then the pain and stress of trying to get up with dignity had wiped him out entirely. He felt himself drifting off to sleep as he rolled slightly onto his stomach. Bull covered him with a blanket up to his hips and continued to rub and stroke away at his back.

“You’re amazing,” Dorian heard himself whisper before he finally fell asleep with a low snore.


	10. Pasture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adoribull Prompt Sunday - someone asked for "in a fight, the bull gets stabbed right through his good knee and the damage is extensive enough that he's forced into early retirement. after losing the qun, the chargers were all he thought had going to keep him from going mad. dorian proves to him that he's wrong." Fluffy, schmoopy nonsense. Enjoy.

It was always going to go down this way, Bull figured. When he lost his eye he remembered thinking, ‘w _ell, fuck. Now I_ really _have to be careful_.’ It was the same when he lost his fingers, ruptured his spleen, punctured a lung, busted his leg and had to start wearing that dumb brace. Each permanent, lingering injury only meant he was step closer to either dying in battle, or being put out to pasture. Personally, he’d always hoped for the former, figured it was inevitable, really. But if there was one thing that life had taught him, it was that things didn’t usually go to plan.

Luckily they were close enough to the city of Caimen Brea when it happened. Some filthy, asshole bandit stuck a knife right through his knee during an ambush. It was embarrassing really; just some average, sneaky bastard and it wasn’t even on his blind side; an irrefutable sign that he was getting too old for this shit. The boys got him into the city and he got himself patched up by the healers there. They did a good job on him, but there sure as shit wouldn’t be another dragon fight for The Iron Bull. It was depressing as fuck.

He was still resting in the infirmary when the sending crystal glowed and grew warm on his chest. Bull squeezed it tightly and held it to his face.

“Kadan?”

“Bull!” Dorian sounded fraught. “ _Amatus_ , thank the Maker. Tell me you’re alright?”

“Yeah, they patched me up. I’m good. Sorry, I’ll be a little late to meet you.”

“Don’t worry about that. But you’re truly alright? You sound…”

“Yeah. I’m fine, but that’s about it. I’m probably…”

“Probably what, Bull? You’re scaring me.”

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” He sighed and told himself he had better get it over and done with. “I’m done with leading The Chargers though. I can get around, but I won’t be much use in a fight with two bummed knees. They’re all telling me to shut up, but I’m a liability now and I won’t put them at risk by having to cover my ass all the time. Only an idiot would hobble to his death.”

“Oh, Bull. I’m sorry.” Dorian sounded truly upset for him.

“It’s okay. I’m a little older than you, Kadan. I’d been thinking for a while that a change had to come. Not exactly what I’d picture, mind.”

“What will you do?” Dorian asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know. They said I should be okay to start walking around tomorrow, so I’ll see you at home by nightfall.”

“Don’t strain yourself, Bull. Be safe. Take a caravan, for crying out loud.”

“Stop fussing, mother hen.”

“Oh, yes because you were a picture of tranquillity and level-headedness when I was taken by The Venatori, weren’t you?” Dorian snapped.

Bull chuckled. “I love you, Kadan. I need to see you.”

“And I, you, Amatus. Now sleep. I’ll wait with _baited breath_ for you tomorrow.”

–-

Bull did get hire a caravan in the end. He was fine to walk, but it ached; the wound was too new still. He decided it was safer to get the caravan to carry him rather than to risk Dorian’s wrath when he arrived limping.  _What will you do, now_? Dorian had asked. It was a good question, one that Bull was afraid to think about. The last thing he needed was to start worrying or despairing before he’d even had the chance to heal fully. The Chargers were adamant that he still lead them and Bull was tempted even though he knew what it would mean for him. No, he had decided to leave the boys in Krem’s hands. It was time, that much he knew to be true. But The Iron Bull without a battle to charge into? What kind of man would that be, he wondered. He didn’t like to picture it. Bull  _needed_  the fight, it was his release, his calm. Without it, what would he do with that anger, his frustration, his fear..?

‘ _I can either press those feelings down until I snap and hurt someone I care about… Or we can go find some bad guys who need to die,_ ’ he had said once said to Sera.

He sighed and leaning on the armrest, pushed his knuckles to his mouth. He ran them along the sharp edges of his teeth, and worried.

–-

Later that day Dorian was examining his wound and tutting angrily. He applied the salves Bull had been given and wrapped it up again quickly.

“I think you’ll heal well,” he said.

“Not well enough, though.”

“No, I suppose not. You won’t be lame, not by any stretch, but hiking for days, the cold weather, carrying your weapons, the fighting…”

“Impossible, I know,” Bull said wistfully. “I tried telling the boys, but I don’t think they’ve got it yet.”

“You always had planned on learning how to crochet.”

Bull grinned uneasily. “How many scarves you want?” A shuddering sigh escaped him.

Dorian stood and straddled Bull’s hips very gently without leaning on him. He kissed him deeply. When they parted, Dorian rubbed at his temples and looked imploringly at him.

“Hm. I’m just antsy, Dorian. Kicking the shit out of assholes. Killing. It was how I dealt with everything. All this shit.” He tapped the side of his head and couldn’t look Dorian in the eyes. “I don’t want to end up some bitter, cruel, violent jackass. I don’t want to hurt  _you_.”

“ _Amatus_ ,” Dorian breathed, his voice full of emotion and he kissed beside his eye and down his cheek. “You’re  _strong_ , Bull,” he said and cradled his face. “Not just in a physical sense. Don’t misunderstand me, it will be an adjustment and I am here for you. But you are your own person and you are so much more than a fighter. You are not some mindless giant that needs to hurt and crunch in order to feel and express yourself. You are The Iron Bull, Inquisition hero who talks in his sleep, sings wonderfully and makes the worst jokes I’ve ever heard. You made your life away from The Qun, chose The Chargers and never looked back. You are my lover, my amatus, who sat me down when I was sharp and fearful, held my hand and told me you didn’t care about Tevinter bullshit, that we were  _madly_  in love and that we were getting married someday. You persuaded me not to be ashamed or angry, and helped me become the man I am now. None of these things have anything to do with blood or swinging axes or running from what you feel.”

“Dorian,” Bull said and wiped at his eye. They kissed again and Bull held him tightly.

–

While Dorian slept, Bull stayed awake with his thoughts. Dorian’s words ran through his mind, and he thought about the last time he had been angry, truly angry. When The Venatori had taken Dorian and they crossed the border to find him. He’d torn through those bastards like they were made from tissue paper, but he didn’t lose himself to it, and he didn’t feel any release with each dying scream, only more worry for Dorian. He remembered how focussed he’d been on finding him despite his rage and fear. The second he knew Dorian was safe and in his arms, it had all vanished. He didn’t give a shit anymore, hadn’t needed to hit anyone to deal with how scared he’d been. He told Dorian he’d nearly fainted when he heard what had happened to him, and they held each other, and everything had been fine.

When he lost his connection to his people, he had been sure that he wouldn’t be able to stay sane in the long-term. That something slowly would turn in his mind until one day there would be nothing good or sensible left in him. But it never happened, in fact the opposite occurred and Bull had felt more awake than he ever had before. Dorian was right, it had been a long time since Bull had needed to kill in order to deal with how he felt.

He looked down at Dorian drooling on his abdomen, his long hair and moustache all over the place. He smiled and scratched at the back of his head. Dorian made a small, unthinking noise and stretched himself further over the expanse of Bull’s chest. If Bull was honest with himself, although he’d hoped to go out in a blaze of glory, there was a certain appeal to spending his winter years in a border village. There was a farm, and the people were nice. There would be work, and he would be closer to Dorian. The thought made him smile.

“Bull?” Dorian wriggled.

“Hm?”

Dorian flicked his hand. “You stopped scratching. Resume.”

Bull laughed lightly and ruffled his hair again, his fingers played with the strands as Dorian made a pleased sound. Would he go mad, then? Nah, he was The Iron Bull, and he knew how to talk about his fucking feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are my food. You can also find me on tumblr. Come [ say hi on there too! ](http://captaincorale.tumblr.com) It would make my day and I take prompts and sometimes write cutesy headcanons, drabbles there that I wouldn't post here. I also whine about fandom lore a lot, be warned, hah. :-)
> 
> If you enjoyed my work, please consider [ buying me a coffee ](http://https://ko-fi.com/cptncorale/) so I can sit and write in coffee shops and be super powered with caffeine!


End file.
